Invisible String: the inevitable pull
♡︎ the string pulled Bella and Will three thousand miles...some connections refuse to break. some people find their way back to each other no matter the distance, the timing, or the damage left behind. for some strings- they were never meant to snap in the first place. new city, old feelings, and the pull neither of them can ignore.
SERIES MASTERLIST
Chapter 2 ♡︎ (w.c. 2.0k)
The air in the studio smelled of sweat, rosin, and the faint, sweet scent of strawberry lip gloss. It was a chaotic symphony of pattering feet, high-pitched giggles, and the occasional, dramatic wail. Bella and Kenzie moved through the sea of pink and lavender leotards like experienced sailors navigating a choppy, sparkly ocean.
"Okay, plié and then relevé, and... hold it!" Kenzie called out, her voice a beacon of calm in the storm. "Beautiful, Lily! Amazing, Chloe!"
Bella knelt to adjust a twisted strap on a tiny ballet slipper, offering a reassuring smile to a little girl with a determined frown. "You're doing great, sweetie. Just like a swan."
This was their summer internship. Teaching the "Sparkle Sprites," a class of five-to-seven-year-olds, was both exhausting and surprisingly therapeutic. The children were so wonderfully, brutally present. They didn't care about hockey players in California or the stress from a recent move. They cared about who got to be the flower in the center and whether the fairy dust was sparkly enough.
It was exactly the kind of uncomplicated reality Bella needed.
"Miss Bella! Miss Bella!" a small voice piped up. Bella turned to see a little girl with wide, serious brown eyes and a neat bun that was already coming loose. She was one of the quietest ones in the class, but she moved with a natural grace that was startling to see in someone so small. Her name was Ivy.
"Yes, Ivy?" Bella said, smiling.
"Is this the right way to do a pas de bourrée?" she asked, her little feet already attempting the complicated three-step sequence. It wasn't perfect, but it was close. She was a natural.
"That's perfect, Ivy," Bella said, genuinely impressed. "You've been practicing."
"My daddy says I have to practice if I want to be a real ballerina," Ivy said with a serious nod.
"Well, your daddy is very smart," Kenzie said, joining them. "Now, let's all get in a circle for our cool-down stretch!"
After the last of the Sparkle Sprites had been collected by their parents, the studio finally fell silent. Bella collapsed onto the floor, sprawling her limbs out like a starfish.
"I think I pulled a hamstring trying to keep up with Chloe," she groaned. "That kid has more energy than a golden retriever."
Kenzie laughed, sinking down beside her. "They're great, though. And did you see Ivy today? She's going to be incredible someday."
"She's so focused," Bella agreed, a fond smile on her face. "It's like she's in her own little world when she dances."
"Speaking of parents," Kenzie said, her tone shifting slightly. "That was Ivy's dad picking her up today, right? The tall, quiet one?"
Bella thought back. Most days, Ivy was picked up by a woman with kind eyes and a warm smile who Bella assumed was her mom. "I don't think so. I think her mom usually gets her. Why?"
"I don't know," Kenzie said, staring at the ceiling. "He just looked... familiar. I couldn't place him."
"Please don't say 'familiar'," Bella begged, sitting up. "The last time someone looked 'familiar' to you, you ended up in a fake relationship with a gay man."
Kenzie rolled her eyes. "This is different. He wasn't hockey-player familiar. He was just... guy familiar. Like maybe an actor from a shampoo commercial or something."
"Right. Well, let's hope he's just a struggling actor and not the captain of the Sharks," Bella said, only half-joking.
-
The following week, Bella was stationed at the door as parents arrived for pickup. It was her favorite part of the day, watching the little girls' faces light up as their moms and dads appeared. Ivy was one of the last ones left, sitting quietly on the bench, meticulously re-tying her ballet slippers.
The studio door swung open, and a man stepped inside. He was tall, with blonde, slightly curly hair that fell over his forehead. He wore a simple hoodie and joggers, and he moved with a quiet, athletic grace that immediately set him apart from the other dads. He looked tired, his shoulders slumped slightly, but when his eyes found Ivy, his entire face softened.
"Hey, bug," he said, his voice low and warm.
"Daddy!" Ivy squeaked, jumping up and running into his arms. He scooped her up effortlessly, her small body fitting perfectly against his chest.
"Did you have a good class?" he asked, smoothing down her flyaway hairs.
"I learned a new step!" Ivy said excitedly. "Miss Bella says I'm a natural!"
"You are," he agreed, his gaze lifting from his daughter to Bella. He offered a small, polite smile. "Hi. I'm Alex. Ivy's dad."
"Bella," she said, returning the smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. Ivy is a wonderful student. A real joy to have in class."
"Thanks," he said, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "She lives for this. It's all she talks about at home."
Kenzie walked over then, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly as she got a good look at him. "Hi," she said, her voice a little too bright. "I'm Kenzie. The other teacher."
"Alex," he said again, shifting Ivy's weight. "It's nice to meet you both. We really appreciate what you do here."
"It's our pleasure," Kenzie said, her smile fixed in place.
Bella watched the exchange, a strange sense of unease prickling at the back of her neck. Kenzie was right. He did look familiar. Not like an actor, though. It was a deeper kind of familiarity, the kind that came from seeing someone's face on a screen, over and over again, in a completely different context.
As Alex Wennberg turned to leave, Ivy waving over his shoulder, it suddenly clicked for Kenzie. She grabbed Bella's arm, her fingers digging in.
"Oh my god," she whispered, her eyes wide with dawning horror. "Bella. That's Alex Wennberg. From the Sharks."
Bella's blood ran cold. She stared at the closed studio door, the image of the tired, kind-eyed father and his ballet-loving daughter burned into her mind. Of course. Of course it couldn't be simple. Of course one of the most pure, uncomplicated things in her new life had to be directly, inextricably linked to the one person she was trying to forget.
"Are you sure?" Bella breathed, her heart starting to pound.
"I'm positive," Kenzie said, her face pale. "I saw his press conference when they re-signed him last year. That's him. Ivy's dad is a Shark."
Bella sank onto the bench, her legs suddenly feeling like they couldn't hold her up. The Sparkle Sprites were supposed to be her escape. But it turned out, she had just been dancing in the enemy's backyard.
-
The ice in Rogers Arena was colder, sharper than the ice back home. It bit through Will's skate blades, a clean, unforgiving surface that demanded absolute focus. He needed this. He needed the bone-deep ache of a good practice, the kind that crowded out everything else.
"Nice feed, Smitty!" Macklin called from across the rink, easily deflecting a pass from a defenseman and sending it right back to Will's tape.
Will didn't answer, just fired the puck into the back of the net during the drill. He was in a zone, a place of exertion and muscle memory where there was no room for thought.
Hours later, sprawled on the couch in Mack's childhood bedroom, Will was exhausted. Macklin, however, was wired. He was flicking through his phone, a smug grin on his face.
"Okay, so Raya in Vancouver is a whole different ecosystem," he announced, turning the screen to show Will a succession of stunningly beautiful women. "Look at this one. She's a 'global wellness influencer.' What does that even mean? And this one is a 'casual golfer.' Hot."
Will didn't even glance at the phone. He was staring at the ceiling. "Cool."
"Come on, man," Macklin complained, nudging him with his foot. "We're in a different country. It's a smorgasbord. You've just been swiping left on everyone. This one went to Harvard. You like smart girls."
"Not interested," Will grunted, grabbing the remote and flipping aimlessly through sports channels.
Macklin sighed dramatically and tossed his phone onto the cushion between them. "Okay, what's your deal? You're in Vancouver. You're in the NHL. You could literally have a different girl's number every night and no one would ever know."
Will felt the familiar knot tighten in his stomach. He didn't want a different girl's number. He didn't want to swipe right on a mediocre golfer or a wellness influencer. He wanted... he didn't know what he wanted. But it wasn't this.
"It's not that simple," he said, his voice low.
"It is literally that simple," Macklin argued, sitting up. "You see a hot girl. You say hi. It's been the basis of human interaction for centuries."
Will finally looked at him, the exhaustion of the day warring with the exhaustion in his soul. "It's not a game to me, Mack."
"I know it's not a game," Macklin said, his tone softening. He knew he was pushing, but he was tired of watching his best friend mope around like a wounded bear. "But you can't just... shut down forever. It's been months. What happened in Boston was shitty, I get it. But you can't let one person ruin everything."
Will was silent for a long moment. The only sound was the hum of the TV and the distant traffic from the street outside. He picked up Macklin's discarded phone, his thumb hovering over the screen without really seeing it.
"It wasn't just 'one person'," he said, his voice quiet, rough around the edges. "It was... everything. With her, it felt like I was building something. A life. Not just the hockey, but... a real life. Off the ice."
He swiped left on a model in Aspen. "She didn't care about the draft, or the contract. She cared that I was stressed about my history final. She knew I hated the smell of citrus because it gave me a headache. She knew how I took my coffee."
He swiped left on a lawyer in Toronto. "It wasn't just about having fun. It was about... the quiet moments, you know? Watching stupid movies in her dorm room. Her falling asleep on my shoulder. The way she'd looked when she was tanning at my family's house. The way she fits in my family so well."
Mack was quiet now, just watching him. Will hadn't talked about her like this before. Not really.
"She saw me," Will continued, his gaze fixed on the glowing screen in his hand. "Not the hockey player. Not the prospect. Just... me. And I ruined it. I was so focused on the next step, on the career, that I didn't see I was losing the most important thing."
He finally looked up from the phone, his eyes meeting Macklin's. There was a raw, unguarded pain there that Mack hadn't seen before. "So when you ask me why I don't want to talk to some random girl from Raya... it's because they're not her. They don't know that I hum in my sleep when I'm really tired, or that my favorite color is the stupid shade of sapphire blue from our old rink back home. They don't know anything. And I don't have the energy to start over. To try and build all that again with someone new, just to watch it probably fall apart anyway."
He tossed the phone back onto the couch. "It's easier to just... not. Easier to be alone."
Mack didn't have a comeback for that. He just sat there, the weight of his friend's confession settling in the room. He'd thought Will was just being stubborn, or mopey. He hadn't realized he was broken. That he wasn't just avoiding a relationship; he was mourning the loss of a future he'd already mapped out in his head.
"Okay, man," Mack replied softly, picking up the remote and turning off the TV. "Okay."
Will didn't say anything else. He just lay back down on the couch, closing his eyes. But the ice was gone now. The exhaustion was gone. All that was left was the ghost of a girl he'd let go, and the quiet, hollow space she'd left behind.
taglist- @destinyg237 @heeseungthelOml @slutformatt17 @hockeyismylife5 @smittys2 @overmtter
**a/n: will smith hockey?? don’t know her.. I only know will smith yearner🫠 hi mack thank god you are now a main character!!! congratulations dude! i can’t wait for what’s coming <3
-C
